


Animosity Between Roomies

by hedylogos_wilde



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Banter, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Frottage, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Masturbation, Nipple Play, POC Bill Cipher, Stomach Kink, enemies to fuckbuddies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 13:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13295592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedylogos_wilde/pseuds/hedylogos_wilde
Summary: There’s someone lounging on Dipper’s bed when he returns from orientation. He’s stretched out on his side, a book in one hand, a bag of Doritos in the other. He doesn’t look up when Dipper clears his throat. He does, however, wipe his cheesy fingers on Dipper’s sheets.For Dipper Pines, enmity and lechery walk hand in hand.





	Animosity Between Roomies

**Author's Note:**

> -Bill is 18 and Dipper is 19, so technically their drinking is underaged  
> -Bill and Dipper's actions are influenced by alcohol, but their minds are not in such an altered state that they cannot consent. Everything is consensual, as well as safe, but they're not exactly nice to each other
> 
> I wrote this story for a close friend of mine. Hope you enjoy!

There’s someone lounging on Dipper’s bed when he returns from orientation. He’s stretched out on his side, a book in one hand, a bag of Doritos in the other. He doesn’t look up when Dipper clears his throat. He does, however, wipe his cheesy fingers on Dipper’s sheets, the ones Mabel had picked out for him on their pre-college shopping trip.

Dipper wants to avoid rocking the boat, wants to keep his mouth shut and shuffle over to the other twin sized cot, but he knows if he does he’ll be dooming himself. “ _You’re an adult now_ ,” he said to his reflection that morning. “ _You can’t let yourself be pushed around._ ”

“Hey!” He hopes his voice doesn’t crack as much as he thinks it does. “That’s my bed.” The stranger does nothing to acknowledge Dipper’s words, continuing to flip through his book. _Maybe he can’t hear,_ Dipper thinks hopefully. _Maybe my roommate isn’t an inconsiderate asshole._ He waves a hand in front of the guy’s face. No acknowledgement except for a crooked smile with crooked teeth. _Guess he’s an inconsiderate asshole._

“Stop ignoring me.”

“Stop ignoring me.” Dipper is off put by his voice. It’s surprisingly high for a man his size.

“Stop mimicking me.”

“Stop mimicking me.” Dipper grinds his teeth in frustration.

“Don’t be so immature.”

“Don’t be so immature.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously.”

“You’re an asshole!”

“You’re an asshole!” It’s obvious the guy is eating up Dipper’s annoyance. Dipper finally catches on. Bullies always want a reaction. You just have to stop playing their game. Be the bigger person. He takes a heavy breath.

“Look man, I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot. We’re going to be living together, right? I want to be on good terms. Let’s start over. Maybe we can be friends.”

“Maybe we can be friends.” Dipper refuses to back down from that smug expression still perfectly fixed on the pages of a book.

“I’m Dipper Pines,” he all but hisses between his teeth. He holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

The guy’s fingers are reaching for the chip bag one second and are intertwined with Dipper’s the next. Dipper is taken by surprise not only by the sudden movement but by the dark eyes staring him down. At last, Dipper can look him in the face. He takes in the curly mass of black and blonde hair, the pierced ears and nose, the pimply chin. He balks at the feeling of his meaty hand against his; he can feel sweat and the grit of Doritos powder.

“The name’s Bill, Bill Cipher.” He flashes all his teeth. “I think we’re gonna be real great friends provided you stay the fuck out of my way. This is my bed. Hell, this is my room. So, keep your mouth shut and don’t piss me off, okay?” His grin never wavers.

Dipper feels _very_ unsettled. He wrenches his hand out of Cipher’s grip. There’s something about his ugly smile that enrages Dipper enough to spit back, “Fuck off.” Cipher blinks. Then he stands. Dipper feels his chest tighten. Cipher is actually shorter than him by a few inches, but he is heavy and wide and seems exactly like the kind of guy who would take a swing at you for the absolute fun of it.

“Say that again.” Bill leans up in Dipper’s face. His breath is sticky and warm. Dipper can see neon orange particles between his teeth. It revolts him.

“I don’t know who you think you are. I said fuck off, and get your stuff out of my bed while you’re at it.” Cold sweat beads at his forehead. Dipper can hardly believe his own words. It looks like Cipher can’t either. He looks almost perplexed for a moment, his smile twitching down at the corners. After a long moment, he laughs. Dipper finds it just as grating as his voice.

Cipher puts his book under his arm and scoops up his Doritos. Without a word he moves to the other cot. It creaks under his weight as he makes himself comfortable stretched out on his side. He holds himself like a Roman emperor. Dipper wonders if he even realizes that he’s nothing but a greasy college student, no better than the rest of them. There’s an unnerving aura around him, but he just opens his book and starts reading again, no fuss, no dirty looks.

Dipper is _extremely_ unsettled. He busies himself with unpacking his bags while his mind races. Where had all that anger come from? He can hardly recall a time he has ever been so harsh to someone. It irks him how Cipher, a man he just met, is so easily capable of bringing out his worst side.

Dipper glances over his shoulder. Bill is engrossed in a different book now. His bright yellow hoodie, which Dipper considers an eyesore, is bunched up so that a swath of his stomach hangs out. The brown skin is marbled with stretchmarks. Bill languidly licks his lips as he turns a page. Dipper’s mouth is dry. He turns back to his suitcase.

Yes, Cipher has a talent for bringing out the worst in people.

Dipper’s phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from Mabel. “ _How’s everything going?"_  it reads followed by a string of colorful emojis. It’s nearly eleven. Dipper decides to save his answer for the morning.

He shuffles to the communal bathroom down the hall with pajamas in hand. There’s no way he’s going to strip in front of Cipher. After changing and brushing his teeth he returns to his room. Bill is still in his hoodie, but his jeans and shoes are in a pile in the middle of the floor. Dipper frowns and steps over them to get to his bed. He clicks off the lamp on his side of the room and lays down for much needed sleep.

His sheets are covered in crumbs.

“Fuck.”

“Ya got a problem over there, Pines?” Bill sounds so very, very concerned. Dipper’s teeth grind.

“I’m fine. I’m going to bed.”

“I think I will too.” Bill leans over and turns off his lamp. “Sleep tight,” his voice floats through the darkness.

Dipper stares at the black of the ceiling for what seems like hours before he relaxes enough to close his eyes. His classes begin early tomorrow morning. He needs to rest.

“Hey Pines, guess what?” A whisper pulls Dipper from the edge of sleep. He refuses to answer. He won’t give Cipher the satisfaction.

Just when he closes his eyes again there’s a high, grating laugh.

“I’m gonna be your favorite nightmare.”

Dipper hears the crunching of Doritos in the dark.

* * *

Bill Cipher is a political science major. Of course he is. What better career for a greasy-handed, two-faced, shit-grinned fuck boy than a politician?

Cipher is an expert puppet master, Dipper quickly notices. At breakfast he lures in a diverse crowd; black-lipsticked goths and polo-wearing frat boys and long-haired stoners all stand together to listen to one of his wild— usually raunchy —stories. He has a commanding presence, for better or for worse, and knows how to twist it to his advantage. Dipper can hear the drama in his voice from across the cafeteria. Laughter echoes after it. For whatever reason, Cipher seems to be generally well liked. Dipper can only conclude that’s because no one else has the displeasure of being his roommate.

Bill snores with all the might of a freight train. Bill leaves out plates crusted with food that get moldy. Bill piles his laundry right in the middle of the fucking floor and it stinks so fucking bad that the smell hits Dipper full in the face every time he walks in the dorm room— No more! There can be no more.

Cipher is hunched over his laptop in bed. Dipper chooses to catch his attention by throwing a particularly musty sock in the direction of his face. It doesn’t hit its target but does land in Cipher’s lap, who has the nerve to look annoyed. He pulls out one ear bud.

“What the hell was that for? I haven’t even bothered you today. I was going to wait until after lunch.”

“What’s the deal with all these dirty clothes?”

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” Dipper points to a mound of garments that could not go unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t willfully ignoring them. Cipher clicks his tongue.

“Hm. I wonder how that got there.”

“Take a wild guess.” Dipper feels his blood pressure rising already. Cipher gives a shit-eating smile.

“You think all that is mine? No way. I don’t own that much underwear. I don’t even wear any most days.” For some strange reason that bit of information spikes intrigue rather than disgust. Dipper files it away in the back of his mind to think about later.

“I honestly don’t care. Just clean it up. The smell is so nauseating, I can hardly breath in my own room.”

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem. Might I suggest a gas mask, or _maybe_ you can keep inhaling the smell until pass out, so I don’t have to hear your _incessant whining._ I’m busy.” He bares his teeth. Dipper clenches his fists at his sides.

“What could possibly be so important that you can’t take five minutes to clean up this biohazard?” But Bill is utterly ignoring him. His ear bud is back in, and he’s typing away. Anger bubbles at the back of Dipper’s throat. “Listen to me, damn it,” he snarls and rips the earphone jack from Bill’s computer without thinking.

“ _You love it when I fuck your throat like this,_ ” a deep voice rasps. Wet sounds and shameless moans ooze from the laptop speaker.

“What… what the hell…” Dipper sputters.

“That was super rude, ya know. Don’t give me that judgmental look, pine tree. Listening to porn helps me concentrate.” Bill turns the screen towards Dipper. It’s a Microsoft doc titled ‘My Kick-Ass Essay’. Whatever tab the video is in is minimized.

“Whatever, just turn it off.”

“But this is my favorite part.” The moaning reaches a crescendo.

“ _You look so good with my jizz all over your face._ ”

“Turn it off, Cipher!”

“Fine,” Bill laughs. He closes his computer. “I gotta get to class anyway. You should have seen the look on your pathetic face.” He leaves the room chuckling to himself.

As soon as the door closes, Dipper reaches into the front of his pants. All it takes for him to make a mess in his hand is the thought of bending Bill over and yanking down his jeans to find him without boxers.

Dipper decides to just wash the laundry himself.

 

* * *

 

Dipper hasn’t had a lot of beer. Rather, he’s had just enough beer, so after staring at Bill and his posse from across the room for nearly twenty minutes, he hoists himself from the comfort of his seat.

_What are you doing? Sit down! Sit down!_ the reasonable voice in the back of Dipper’s mind entreats. But Dipper doesn’t care to listen to that voice tonight. He feels bold. He feels angry.

Bill is lounging on a leather recliner like he’s the king of the god-damn world. He’s eating a bag of Doritos (when is he not?) and talking and laughing and smacking his lips and licking his fingers and looking like the most self-satisfied son-of-a-bitch you’d ever saw. The lazy smugness about him makes Dipper’s blood boil hotter as he approaches. There’s a saccharine cloud of vapor in the area from the electronic cigarettes of Bill’s loyal subjects. The scent of pineapple-coconut and cotton candy assault Dipper’s nose.

“Hey Cipher,” he sneers, “I got something to say to you.” Everyone seems intrigued by this, most of all Bill, who quirks his brow.

“Is that so, pine tree?” He shoves some chips into his mouth. “Whatever it is I’m sure it can wait a minute-”

“Actually, it can’t,” Dipper interrupts, “so how about you stop eating for once, get your fat ass up, and listen to what I have to say?”

There’s a low rumble of ‘oooh’ from the posse. They glance at Bill, gauging his reaction. The chair creaks when he rises. The shadows of his face and the sharp angle of his smile twist knots in Dipper’s stomach.

“I’m up. Tell me what’s on your mind.” His voice is the softest Dipper has ever heard it. Under sober circumstances it would be unnerving enough for Dipper to keep his mouth shut but with the taste of beer on his tongue he can’t keep himself from talking.

“You’re gross,” he hisses, “a slob, a pig. You’re the crudest, nastiest, most disrespectful person I have ever met in my life. You think you’re so suave, but you’re not. You’re just a greasy _fuck._ ”

The tension in the silence is thicker than the puffs of vape. People have spoken disrespectfully to Bill Cipher’s face before, of course, and every one of them walked away from the conversation with a bleeding or broken something. But surely no one has ever spoken to Bill _this_ rudely. Dipper Pines is going to die.

“Gross,” Bill echoes, almost to himself, “crude, nasty, pig, slob… Yeah.” He smirks. “That sounds about right. I’m all those things. But you’re only pointing out the obvious, kid. You forgot about how I’m sadistic and have a general disregard for human life. Anybody got a pen?” Three electronic cigarettes are extended for him to choose from.

Dipper gapes like a fish out of water. His muddled brain barely grasps the fact that he was a fool to try and tear down Bill Cipher. Men like him didn’t get torn up by words. _Mistake!_ Dipper’s reasonable brain shrieks. _Mistake!_

“So how ya feelin’ after that?” Vapor curls from Cipher’s mouth. “Sounds like you’ve been holding that outburst in for quite a long time.” Dipper can only nod. “Glad you got it off your chest. Now you can deal with the consequences.”

“Consequences?” Dipper squeaks. Bill is so close to him now. His grin is gut wrenching.

“Yeah. You can’t just say those things about me—to my face, no less—and expect me not to kick your scrawny ass into another dimension. I got a reputation, kid. Those were fighting words.”

“I’m not fighting you.”

“Oh yeah? You think you have a choice? Let me tell you something, pine tree.” He yanks Dipper down by his collar to hiss into his ear. “I’m the one in control. I’m the puppet master. If I say ‘fight’, you’ll fight, and if I say ‘bow down’, you’ll bow down. I may be a fat slob, but you’re a whiny, pathetic, _bitch_ of a guy, and you’re going to do as I say. Isn’t that right?”

Cipher sucks from his pen and releases a sticky cloud directly into Dipper’s face. Dipper shudders. It reeks of Mountain Dew. The cloying smell invades his senses, makes him dizzy. Cipher’s crooked smile is only inches away from his face, and Dipper can see every speck of chip between his teeth. Furious heat coils in the pit of his stomach. Dipper has never been more repulsed in his life.

His hands fly to the back of Cipher’s head and force their mouths together.

Bill is stiff. The tautness of his body suggests a mounting explosion of violence, but then he moves, crashing painfully into Dipper with tooth and tongue. They bite at each other’s lips, lick over gums and palates and the inside of cheeks. Saliva slides down Dipper’s chin from the corner of his mouth. He breaks away with a wheezing breath.

Everyone within witnessing distance of the unforeseen turn of events roars their approval. The crowd always has a taste for violence, but their bloodlust can never surpass their lust for an arousing display. The voyeuristic crowd jeers encouragement in the hope that the two will kiss again or maybe start fucking on the nearest couch.

Bill’s pleasure is much subtler. He wipes the spit from his mouth with the back of his hand and looks at Dipper expectantly. Hungrily. Dipper feels high off adrenaline. He doesn’t think twice about taking Cipher by the hand and dragging him through the frat house.

“Where we goin, Pine tree?” he asks playfully. He doesn’t resist Dipper’s pull.

“Wherever there’s an empty bed.” Dipper loathes to admit that he doesn’t actually know his way around the house. They move through the kitchen and past a game of beer pong in the dining room. With only a little difficulty on Dipper’s part they trudge up a flight of stairs to the bedrooms. Some have ties hanging on the doorknobs while others are cracked open for the claiming. Dipper pulls Bill inside the nearest open one and all but slams the door behind them. “ _Bill_ ,” he finds himself gasping, and they’re at it again, mouths furiously working against each other.

It’s unbearably hot the way Bill sucks on his tongue. It’s even hotter how noisy he is when he does it. Dipper can’t resist rolling his hips into the softness of Bill’s thigh. He can’t recall a time he’s been filled with so much want.

“Feels like Little Dipper is excited to see me.” Cipher curls his lips. “Are you trying to smash, pine tree?” Dipper can hardly form a response. Why did Bill have to start running that mouth of his again? It had so many other uses: kissing, licking, biting, sucking, swallowing-- Dipper shudders.

“ _Yes_.”

“But aren’t I just the worst? Who would want to fuck fat, mean, ugly me?” Bill honestly seems amused. He presses his knee against the swell in Dipper’s pants. Dipper groans and leans to press a few sloppy kisses to Bill’s mouth.

“I never said you were ugly,” he breathes. Cipher’s smile is sharp.

“Oh, pine tree, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.” He replaces his knee with the palm of his hand. A few strokes through his jeans has Dipper moaning.

“You don’t need me to make you feel special. You already think you’re the best thing since the invention of PornHub.”

“You’re being mouthy, but I couldn’t have put it any better myself.” He trails a lone finger down the zipper of Dipper’s pants. “You’re just after a fuck, right? I’m not trying to do this if you’ve got some sort of puppy-dog crush on me.” Dipper grabs Cipher around the wrist.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just my means of getting off.” It sounds harsh, but it’s the truth; dealing with Bill every day fills Dipper with a potent mix of aggression and lust that a hand alone can no longer satisfy. Dipper truly dislikes his roommate’s personality, but his mouth and his thighs and the soft curves of his chest—that’s all entirely different. Dipper’s been thinking about having his way with Bill for months.

“So, I’m your fuck toy, huh?” Bill looks much too pleased with that idea. He wrenches his hand free to put it between his own legs. Dipper almost laughs at his eagerness.

“Yeah. Figures you’d like that. Anyone who listens to porn while doing their school work has to be a slut.” Dipper is only mildly concerned right after he says this that Bill will take offense to being called a slut, but apparently, he doesn’t if his hissed ‘Fuck yes’ is anything to go by.

“What do you wanna do with me?” Dipper has never been the best with words—let alone dirty talk—so he decides to simply vocalize the fantasies he’s been having for weeks.

“I want you on your back, legs spread wide for me. I’ll finger you nice and deep, but I won’t let you cum. I’ll play with your ass until you’re a drooling, crying mess and then, once you’re desperate, I’ll plow you into the sheets, make you squeal, make you cum all over yourself—”

“I’m so close,” Cipher pants. “Call me a slut again.”

“You’re not going to finish like this.” They fall back onto the bed— _a stranger’s bed_ Dipper thinks briefly— swallowing each other’s needy sounds in kisses. Dipper is almost startled by how good it feels to have Bill under him. Their legs are tangled, and their chests are pressed; it’s so unbelievably warm. Dipper is eager to feel more of Bill skin to skin. He runs his hands under his hoodie to caress his fingers over the swell of his stomach. He groans at the sensation of soft flesh. “I can’t wait to tear your ass apart,” he says against Bill’s lips.

“Don’t wait. Get Little Dipper wrapped up and get to it.”

“Wrapped up?”

“Yeah. You brought condoms and lube, right?” Dipper blinks.

Shit.

“Well… uh…” Bill laughs in his face.

“I can’t believe a goody-goody boy scout like you didn’t come prepared!”

“It’s not like I knew we were going to fuck! This is very unexpected.”

“Really? Thought that whole tough guy outburst was a part of a plan to get in my pants. Whatever. Sorry kid. No glove, no ass pounding.” Bill starts moving from under him.

“You’re leaving?” Dipper practically whimpers. Bill presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Nah. Just getting on top. Switch positions with me.” Dipper obeys. If having Bill under him was good, having him on top was even better. He rolls his hips against Bill’s wide thigh.

“What do you have in mind here?”

“I’m going to make you cream your pants,” is all Bill says before yanking up Dipper’s shirt. The pads of his thumbs circle around his nipples. “These are so pretty. I’m gonna make you squirm, pine tree.”

And squirm he does. Bill rolls and tugs one nipple between his fingers as he laps at the other.   His biting, sucking mouth makes Dipper arch halfway off the bed. Every touch is fucking exquisite.

“Cipher… Cipher…” He blindly gropes his hands across Bill’s chest. “Take it off, please, wanna feel you.”

“You wanna play with mine?” He pulls his hoodie over his head and tosses it aside. Dipper takes a tit in each hand ( _Is it okay to call them tits?_ he wonders. _Certainly sounds better than_ moobs) and squeezes. They’re just as soft as he’s imagined. Bill’s nipples are pointed and dark. Stretch marks creep from his armpits over the top of each breast. This isn’t the kind of body Dipper has ever seen before. He’s enamored with it.

“Can I suck them?” Bill’s breath hitches.

“Yeah. Fuck, yeah, do it hard.” He positions himself so his chest smushes against his face. Dipper takes a fat bud into his mouth and swirls his tongue. Bill’s immediate sob of pleasure sends pulsing heat through his cock. Dipper didn’t even realize how close he was. Every heavy grind against his strained erection coaxes him closer to the edge. He places his hands on Bill’s ass to steady himself as the pace of their hips frantically mounts. It’s soft, just like his stomach and thighs, and he can’t help but think how good it would feel to bury his face in that unyielding flesh.

Dipper’s finish is out of this world.  Every cell in his body seems to thrum with orgasmic bliss. The wetness spurted on the inside of his briefs is gross but undeniably satisfying. He rides out his pleasure with little cants of his hips.

“Hah! Told you I was gonna make you cum in your pants like a horny mess.”

“It’s not like you’re not about to either. Just shut your mouth and cum, slut.”

Bill’s orgasm is a show within itself. He tenses, head tossed back, thighs trembling, tongue hanging out as he makes a whining sound.

“Dipper!”

His cock twitches hard.

Bill eventually comes down from his high and collapses down on Dipper’s chest. Sweat dribbles down both of their faces. They’re quiet for a while, and the haze is comfortable. Too comfortable for Dipper’s tastes.

“You’re crushing me.”

“You didn’t complain about that five minutes ago.” But Bill rolls off him. Dipper can almost see his grin in the dark. “I didn’t realize you know how to have a good time. I’m impressed.”

“Mhm.”

“We gotta do this again, yeah?”

“Yeah. The next time you won’t shut up I’ll just shove my dick in your mouth.” Bill’s laugh is too loud. Dipper just wants to close his eyes and sleep for a while.

“I wouldn’t say no to that. Hey, what time is it?” Dipper feels around for his phone. It’s 1:37 am. He relays the information to Bill.

“I have a class at 7. I’m going back to the dorm.” He hoists himself out of bed and looks around for his hoodie.

“You? Actually trying to be responsible? I’m amazed.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t have the thousands of dollars to retake any of my classes. You have a lab at 9, so you’re getting out of here with me.”

“How do you know my schedule?”

“Because you’ve been complaining about it all week. I only pretend not to hear what you say.” That makes Dipper strangely warm. He brushes it off as the after effects of orgasm.

After fixing their hair and adjusting their clothes, the slip downstairs back into the fray of the still going party. Dipper ignores the stares. Bill soaks up the attention with a smile. They walk across the darkened campus in comfortable silence. Dipper can’t stand it.

“This doesn’t change how I feel about you. You’re still an asshole.”

“And you’re still a whiny bitch. Don’t freak out, pine tree. Fucking is only fucking, right?” He fishes a key out of his jeans to unlock the room.

“Right.” He’s overthinking everything.

“Night, Dipper.” He presses a kiss to his jaw and flops down in bed.

Then again, maybe not.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


End file.
